Spots in the Dark
by Lilith Duvare
Summary: Stiles was mostly serious when he said no to Peter's offer. It was tempting, but it was safer if he stayed human, or so he thought until he decided it was a stellar idea to look for Derek in the middle of the night only to get mauled to near death by a huge scaly monster and wake up with fur and spots next to a really hot guy. Naked.


**Spots in the Dark**

**Disclaimer: **The only thing I own is my OC and the story, the characters, setting and everything else belongs to Jeff Davis and MTV.

**Fandom: **Teen Wolf

**Pairings: **some pre-Derek/Stiles if you squint, sexual tension between Stiles and OMC

**Characters: **Stiles Stilinski, OMC, Sheriff Stilinski, Derek Hale

**Warnings: **some angst, violence, pre-slash, mild UST, all Stilinski feels

**Set: **early season 2

**Summary:**

Prompt:  
Stiles becomes a werepanther and Derek is jealous of stiles relationship with his new alpha.

The kind of relationship that is up to the author - same with the lore they choose to use for werepanther transformations - but I'd prefer if they were a less intense/angry species than werewolves with a different kind of pack mentality.

_Stiles groaned in pain, the unbearable burn of torn muscle sending him crumbling to the ground, completely vulnerable. He tried to use his arms and hands to drag himself away from the cruel fucker that was obviously toying with him and enjoying Stiles' suffering and terror way too much, however, his arms felt like they were filled with lead, barely twitching when he tried to raise them, and then there was no time to try again, because the beats was there, breathing the stench of old blood and who knows what else into his face before with a triumphant snarl sinking its fangs into the tender flesh of Stiles' neck. _

**Notes:**

This is the first part of The Spots Series, that is going to follow Stiles as he grows into his spots and figures out what being an werepanther omega means. And hopefully a certain surly Alpha will finally pull his head out of his ass before someone else shows Stiles just how much he is worth.

* * *

**Spots in the Dark**

If nothing else, Stiles had always been proud of his research skills. In a sci-fi or fantasy movie he would be the Master Archiver of some secret society, keeping secrets and digging up new information as easily as air filled his lungs. So understandably, the fact he could find next to nothing about the disgusting, giant reptile that recently decided to show its ugly head and start murdering random people frustrated him to no end. Seriously, the Internet proved to be useless, because let's face it, the chance that the Alien from the movies was wreaking havoc in sleepy, boring Beacon Hills, even if Beacon Hills was far from sleepy or boring these days, was approximately zero. What pissed Stiles off even more was Derek's lack of willingness in the help department, because the shiny new Alpha was too busy turning the outcasts of Beacon Hills High into his evil little minions and quarreling with Scott who refused to have anything to do with said Alpha.

And Stiles was not okay with that. He remembered Isaac and the air of misery surrounding him. Stiles wasn't blind, but he couldn't do anything to help Isaac before he was turned, he was just as much of a social outcast, if not a bigger one because Jackson and his brain-dead minions liked nothing more than picking on Stiles and Scott. And now Isaac was a werewolf, clad in a douchy leather jacket and a new power hungry attitude, paying everyone back for all the shit he had to go through. It didn't help that his father was dead either, no matter how cruel and sadistic that bastard had been. Erica was the same. Stiles didn't forget the awkward, shy yet really pretty girl whose life was wrecked with horrible seizures and the ostracism the other students cursed her with for something she couldn't control. But the bite turned her into the biggest bitch Stiles had ever met, and that was saying something after witnessing Lydia tearing people new assholes on several occasions.

So yeah, he was pissed and frustrated and he was determined to have some strong words with Derek about his life choices and the terrible decisions he had made in the last few weeks. Except when he got there, Derek's house was empty, and Stiles had no choice but to leave, because wandering around in the creepy woods even on the night of the new moon wasn't the best idea, because fucking werewolves had to defy the first law of the supernatural lore and have the ability to shift into wolf form - even if said form was only a cheap imitation of Wolverine - whenever they wanted to or lost control over their instincts. Which happened ridiculously often even with Scott who had months to get used to his new furry friend.

Stiles knew this, he had both the first hand experience and the theoretical knowledge to know what could happen if weak, powerless humans like him decided to prowl the woods at any given time of the day. However, when he left his house he was too angry to think about the possible outcomes and the chance that he might end up as werewolf dinner, because as sad as it sounded, he was kinda used to getting attacked by furry — and nowadays scaly — must have been the reason why he didn't scream like the terrified heroine of a horror flick before the ax murderer got to her when he heard a not yet familiar blood curling snarl-hiss sound that could belong to only one mythical beast.

Actually, he didn't do anything, knowing that running from the monster would only fuel the thing's rage and desire to chase and catch Stiles like a hunter would slaughter their prey. Of course his other option, not moving an inch like a horribly sculpted statue, might lead to the same end, but Stiles tried to cling to that barely there fragment of hope that told him there was a chance that the creature wouldn't notice him. A chance that died a horribly bloody death the moment the scaly thing slithered down from a tree and stopped in front of Stiles, yellow eyes glowing with the menacing glee of tearing a new victim to shreds.

The need to get the hell away from the beast was almost suffocating, yet Stiles still didn't dare move, afraid it would trigger Big Bad and Scaly into attacking him. Except there was no need for a trigger, because the blasted monster got tired of the boring western standoff, and after another show of its set of dagger-like fangs, closed the distance between them sending Stiles into scurrying back, barely avoiding the vicious strike of the monster's long tail.

"Okay, that was not nice," he said, eyes never leaving the hissing beast that seemed to pause at his voice. "I get it okay? Being an ugly as fuck seven foot long lizard is not amongst my dearest wishes either, but you should totally let off the steam in some other way. Did you try macrame? I heard it's a great thing and very soothing too—" That blood curling hiss-snarl cut him off mid-sentence, the monster launching another attack, this time catching Stiles on his thigh with its tail.

Stiles groaned in pain, the unbearable burn of torn muscle sending him crumbling to the ground, completely vulnerable. He tried to use his arms and hands to drag himself away from the cruel fucker that was obviously toying with him and enjoying Stiles' suffering and terror way too much, however, his arms felt like they were filled with lead, barely twitching when he tried to raise them, and then there was no time to try again, because the beats was there, breathing the stench of old blood and who knows what else into his face before with a triumphant snarl sinking its fangs into the tender flesh of Stiles' neck.

He screamed and wasn't ashamed of it, because he was in too much pain to bear it silently. He was unable to open his eyes, but even through the endless fire burning in his blood, he could feel the heavy body lying on top of his. Then just as quickly as they had sunk into his flesh, the fangs were ripped out of him by elemental force, and through the haze of the blood loss and agony, Stiles heard an enraged growl. Maybe Derek finally showed up to save the day? He wanted to snort at that thought, because what did Derek care what happened to him, the useless human was worth nothing but to save incompetent Alphas from dying from electrocution and wolfsbane poisoning? Stiles didn't even know why he thought first of Derek instead of Scott, and if his body hadn't stopped responding to his brain's commands from whatever shit the beast's tail contained, he would have slapped himself on his forehead for being a moron. It was probably Scott, but Stiles' mind was full of darkness and terror, and he couldn't recognize the growl that seemed to be echoed by a pained hiss.

His breathing hitched and his lungs screamed at him to do something about the lack of air filling them, but Stiles could only concentrate on his approaching death and the fear of leaving his dad and Scott alone, even though Scott now had Allison. He didn't want to die dammit, especially with Scott present! His best friend didn't deserve watching Stiles die because of his own stupidity and self-esteem issues. He choked on a wet cough, then out of nowhere something huge and heavy was sprawled on his chest, ripping his last reserves of air from his lungs. He was panicking and wanted to beg for mercy to whatever was lying on top of him, but the only thing that left his mouth was a gurgling, broken sound, then there was nothing but endless pain.

When Stiles came to, he was in an unfamiliar room, lying in someone else's bed and felt no pain whatsoever. The smell of the unfamiliar pillow was oddly comforting, but at the same time prevented him from convincing himself that he had dreamed the trip to Derek's abandoned dump of a house and the attack. Then a strong arm, a strong and very masculine arm squeezed his waist, and Stiles' eyes snapped open in disbelief. He turned to his left, and yep, there was a total stranger cuddling him. A total _stranger_ was cuddling him! A man he had never met kidnapped him while he was lying on the cold forest floor bleeding out, and thought it would be a great idea to snuggle up to a sixteen-year-old boy. Where was his father when Stiles needed him? His virtue was in danger, and his dad decided it was the best time to ignore his son's total disrespect of curfew. Then again his dad totally thought Stiles was at Scott's having a COD marathon, so Stiles had no one but himself to blame for being molested in his sleep by a dirty old pedophile.

He waited for his breath to become labored like last night when that beast attacked him, but nothing happened. He was breathing normally and his heart was beating a soothing cadence, which should have been impossible, because his brain was in a crazed frenzy and ready to start one of his notorious panic attacks. The creep next to him hummed, seemingly content to bury his nose into Stiles' neck, and to his deepest shock, instead of stiffening and somehow wrenching himself out of the pedo's claws, Stiles' body melted and moved closer to the sniffing nose. Okay, this was officially the weirdest thing to ever happen to him, and that was something after the whole werewolf drama…

"Oh shit." The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could have stopped them. "I'm going to grow a murderous tail and mud colored scales!"

"I hope not, you'd look stupid." The clearly amused reply was muffled by Stiles' skin. The strange man's breath tickled his neck, causing him to huff and wiggle away from it. "And smell like the reptile house in the zoo. And let me tell you, there is nothing more disgusting than the stench of the reptile house in the zoo."

"Just so you know, I'm currently freaking out a lot," Stiles said, glaring at the stupid tufts of red hair that tickled his nose, and hid the creep's face from him. "And I know it doesn't seem so, but here comes the part where I scream and call my father who is the sheriff, because there's a stranger in my bed… And I did not just quoted Katy Perry! Especially when it's not even my bed." Stiles groaned, silently ordering his body to move. Of course it remained firmly attached to the nameless man's chest, until the nameless man had enough of sniffing his neck and rolled him onto his back. "Okay, totally-rude-nameless-pedophile-who-is-also-some-kinda-murdering-lizard-that-mauled-me-last-night, I'm not game whatever you're planning to do with me."

The creep raised his head, albeit quite reluctantly, leaving Stiles no option but to stare into pale green eyes. He refused to admit that the man didn't look half as threatening and mass-murderer-like as Derek did. Which was saying something when he was actually a bat shit insane murderer. Not to mention the guy was young, not much older than Stiles, had a head full of copper curls - that really tickled and were baby soft - and a handsome face, not that Stiles cared if the pedo-lizard was hot or not. Or if his high cheekbones probably could cut glass with their sharpness. Or if men were hot in general, but he wasn't getting there. Not when he had bigger problems to handle. Like the werelizard crouching over him and the strange feeling of belonging that settled over him.

"You belong with me now," the guy said, smirking smugly like the alligator that gotten a juicy cow for breakfast. Or a human leg. Okay, that was lame, but Stiles couldn't refrain from using that pun even if only in his head.

"And I should be over the moon or what?" Stiles retorted, inwardly wondering if he really had a death wish after all.

"I certainly won't apologize." Impressively wide shoulders shrugged noncommittally. "You were the one who chose to take a walk in the woods at night, knowing there are dangerous things out there."

"Only crazy people talk about themselves in third person. And it's not my fault you took a chunk out of my neck." Sure it wasn't a very strong retort and an even weaker defense line, but not being able to convey any kind of strong emotion tended to do that.

"I saved your life, sweetheart. The kanima was about to jump you—"

"Kanima? Really imaginative name for the killing machine you are! And where is Scott?" Stiles cut in, as the memory of his best friend's enraged growl slammed into his mind, kicking his instincts into cooperating for a second.

"Scott? Your little friend who was recently turned into a wolf? How should I know where he is? And I'm not the ugly as fuck lizard prowling around town and killing people," the lying lizard who lies answered, raising a derisive eyebrow at him. "If I was a kanima, you wouldn't be alive at the moment. Hell, if I hadn't been tailing that monster to find its master, you wouldn't be here at all."

"What?"

"A kanima is the result of an unsuccessful turning due to severe psychological problems on the receiver's end," was the actually informative explanation, not that Stiles believed a word of it. Then again, the creep had to be honest in some things. That kanima went in for the kill, incapacitating Stiles first for easier access, then nearly tearing his throat out… Unless the kidnapping bastard was lying and it was how kanimas got new members to their massacring club.

Stiles scowled up at the man, who only smirked in return as if he knew what Stiles was thinking, before he tilted his head to the side and sniffed the air in the room. Well it wasn't exactly a reptilian move.

"What are you doing?" Stiles questioned, wary of the mischievous glint lighting up the other's almost glowing eyes. "And what's your name anyway?"

The man frowned at him for a moment, then instead of answering his question, he leaned down and rubbed their cheeks together. Stiles fought the instinct to give in and return the gesture hard, but his body was still not listening to his head, so of course he was rubbing and into the gentle touch like a mindless little cuddle slut . He groaned in delight, because the bastard above him felt like home and family, something Stiles missed more than anything. He inhaled the warm, musky scent of the man, and it was like heaven. He had no idea how a full grown man who had spent the night sprawled over a hormonal teenager could smell so great, but didn't care because he was safe and that was all that mattered.

Stiles nose twitched again, taking in more of that amazing scent and rebooting his brain with force, because the man had said the truth. The delicious mixture of warmth, musk and something sweet couldn't belong to a lizard. There was some lingering remnants of freshly shed cold blood, but the revolting stench of the kanima was missing, and if nothing else, that was reassuring. Even though now there was absolute evidence of Stiles being turned into something definitely not human.

"I'm Alec and _we_ are werepanthers, sweetheart," came the murmured reply, Alec still nuzzling his cheek. "You're part of my pard now."

"Never wanted to be a werewolf or anything that was able to shift shapes." Okay that was a lie, but it was the best Stiles could come up with while having his brain rapidly turned back into a puddle of goo.

"Liar."

"Nope. I'm totally not lying," he huffed, closing his eyes and basking in the sweet cocoon that Alec's body wrapped him into. "Told creepy Peter too. Just ask him… or not. He's dead. I still dream of him and it's horrible."

"Sweetheart?" Alec actually sounded worried and it was strange. "Did he hurt you?"

No one ever really got worried for Stiles, except for his dad and a long-long time ago his mom. Sure Scott used to show worry when a younger Stiles fell victim of his panic, but the attacks were mostly forgotten by now and Scott was way too preoccupied with Allison to be worried for him. Allison and Stiles wasn't close enough to have an emotional bond, so it wasn't a surprise that she wasn't worried for him, but neither was Danny, nor Lydia who only had annoyance and disinterest for Stiles. Just like Derek who only snarled at him and slammed him against hard surfaces. So maybe this werepanther thing wouldn't be too bad. Belonging to somewhere and having someone to back him up for once instead of being the one supporting others.

"Creepy Peter?" Stiles blinked his eyes open, trying to collect some sort of control over his thoughts. "No. He offered me the bite, but told him that I was not interested."

"It was a lie," Alec said softly without judgment.

"No… Not really," Stiles corrected himself, sighing in relief or disappointment when the older man extended the distance between them. "I didn't want it. Not from him."

"I'm still not apologizing."

"Already figured that out."

"You're taking it better than I thought you would."

"I can't really change the past, can I? And even if it pains me to admit, it was my own fault for going to the woods at night."

"Still, I expected screaming and hissy fits-"

"Sorry for not meeting your expectations," Stiles grumbled, rolling his eyes. "If you want, I can throw a tantrum or something, but I feel kinda too mellow to move, and whose fault is that?"

"Not necessary, but thanks for offering." Alec grinned and finally rolled off of him, landing on his back. "I can't really promise that I'll be a great pard leader. I have no idea what I'm doing."

"Let me guess, you're new to the Alpha business like Derek."

"No," Alec sighed. "I was born Alpha, but it isn't the same as it is with the wolves."

"What? But my sources said-"

"Whatever they said was not true. For one, we're not stupid enough to share our existence with humans. No human is allowed to be part of the pard, it's the law. We're not allowed to bond with them, because the connection you have with your pard is sacred." Stiles listened avidly, soaking up all the new information his Alpha offered.

"But what if the bite doesn't take?" He thought about Lydia and whatever she was. Stiles was sure she wasn't the kanima, but it didn't mean she had no leftover effects from Peter's bite.

"Usually if the bite doesn't take, the person in question dies."

"And what if they don't?"

Green eyes darkened and turned away from Stiles' gaze. "We have to kill them."

"That's…" he wanted to say that it was horrible and barbaric, but thinking about Kate Argent made him reconsider his answer. Yes it was an archaic and certainly harsh way to ensure the safety of the pard, but it was understandable and maybe even acceptable in a twisted way. "Doesn't that draw too much attention, though?"

"Fire eats away any evidence that could help the filth to find us. You're going to learn how to forge evidence and trails, fooling hunters to believe you're one of them." At Stiles' flabbergasted look, Alec chuckled without humor. "Our kind is not trusting like our canine friends. They like to preach about loyalty and trusting only the pack, yet they mingle with humans, even mate with them, and it'll be their own downfall. Like your stubborn Beta friend and his little girlfriend."

"Have you been stalking us? Because I'm pretty sure I haven't seen you around," Stiles demanded, narrowing his eyes in suspicion, however, Alec only chuckled, this time in amusement.

"Funny, because I've seen you around plenty of times." Alec's grin widened until it almost split his face in half. "Always goofing around with your friend and getting into trouble because of your big mouth."

"Please tell me, you're not my personal hundred-year-old virgin stalker, because I sure as hell won't swoon at your feet, simpering about eternal love and turn into a zombie when you leave me for my own safety!" This time Alec outright laughed at him, hiding his face in the pillow next to Stiles' head.

"You're an idiot," he gasped between two fits of laughter. "I graduated from Beacon Hills High last year. And I should take offense that you don't remember me and my dashing looks, but you were just a clueless little freshman last year, so I forgive you."

"How gracious of you," Stiles scoffed, but his lips were stretching into a wide grin. Then his ever helpful brain replayed what Alec had said a few minutes ago and the smile froze onto his lips. "Wait a sec, you said I'm part of your pard, but if you're new to the business, how could you have a pard at all?"

Alec rubbed the back of his neck, but to his credit he had the guts to meet Stiles' suspicious gaze. "So you might be the first member of it… Beside me of course. And stop looking at me like that! I totally saved you!"

"This is getting pretty old pretty fast, dude," Stiles said, however, he didn't move away when the older man snuggled up to him, curling his body around him like a cat. Which technically both of them were, so the hilarity of that thought took a dive to Suckville. "Seriously though, what were you thinking? And how comes you're not with your old pard anymore? Is this some kind of rite of passage thing or something? Gathering your own little group of fur balls? Do you earn brownie points after each new member like Derek thinks he does? Or you were exiled for some heinous crime you didn't commit and now you're gathering your personal army to avenge the injustice done to you."

"Holy shit, your mind must be a very scary place," Alec murmured, his mouth barely a whisper away from Stiles'. "I had to give you the bite, sweetheart. You were dying, and my instincts were screaming at me to claim you and save you." They were staring into each other's eyes, and wow, this was the first time Stiles had to do the whole morning after thing, which was admittedly different from what he had imagined. For one, no sexual activities had been involved, at all. Not to mention the pillow talk breached life altering information and too much furriness instead of being a hymn to his stamina and insanely wicked skills in bed that probably only existed in his mind, but who cared? At least he was sure his new Alpha was telling the truth. "You're going to learn that you cannot ignore your instincts, but it's only one of the reasons I don't regret turning you. You always intrigued me, you know. Everyone knows the sheriff's hyper son, who is full of smiles and a little bit of a disaster on two feet, but you're more than an annoying little brat that has a motormouth and an inability to shut up. I've been watching you since elementary school—"

"And that's not creepy as fuck, not at all," Stiles butted in, but his traitorous body decided it was a good time to show his pleased embarrassment at the veiled praise.

"You're loyal and much more intelligent than you allow others to see it," Alec continued his monologue only responding to Stiles' interruption with a shake of his head. "You have potential to become something great and I have faith in you."

A part of him still wondered if Alec was only complimenting him to earn his trust before he forced Stiles to commit a bunch of gory homicides for him, but he didn't think the guy was stupid enough to believe such lame ploy would work on him. "Unless I turn into a frothing mouthed monster, because added to my freakishly fun ADHD, now I'm vulnerable to your moods too. Or was that what you meant by having potential? Potential to lose my fucking mind?!"

Stiles wasn't stupid and he had spent too much time researching lycanthropy to not know that while getting the bite usually cured every illness and physical deformation — bar growing limbs back —, mental disorders were different. It was one of the reasons why he had refused Peter Hale's offer; there was too much risk and inhuman strength, speed and senses meant nothing when you had no sane braincell left to enjoy them. Stiles shuddered at the thought, even though he still felt oddly calm.

"You're doing your freaky Alpha mojo, aren't you?" he asked and Alec's eyes flashed and turned neon green for a second, but then he seemed to reign his miffed cat side in because the glow disappeared and the rumbling of his chest stopped too.

"The Alpha-Beta connection for werepanthers is stronger than for other type of lycanthropes," Alec explained in a soft voice. "It's because we live in small groups and only have each other to rely on. But I'll explain everything later. Just know that I'm here for you no matter what happens."

"That's not even close to an acceptable answer to my question, but okay. And I want to know everything."

"Oh I'm sure you do," Alec smirked and after a quick nip to Stiles' ear he sat up, stretching his arms above his head. He let out a satisfied purr only to freeze in mid-motion and cock his head to the side as if he was listening to something Stiles couldn't hear. And wasn't that just plain strange? Shouldn't his new supernatural senses have already developed? Scott had his new hearing basically from day one, but here Stiles was feeling the same as yesterday. Except for the lack of wound. And the intriguing smells that switched on and off without Stiles' consent. But he couldn't see the tiniest grain of dust on the flat screen TV or hear the flow of Alec's blood. There was nothing just the sound his own breathing and the usual noises that belonged to his house. "We should get up, it's getting late and a cruiser just drove by the condo." Alec's attention was still mostly focused on the street, but his head turned towards Stiles, raising an eyebrow in silent inquiry as if he was trying to decipher Stiles' reaction.

"What time is it?" he wanted to ask, but then Alec got out of the bed, naked, and Stiles needed every drop of willpower to tear his gaze away from Alec's nicely sculpted behind. Naturally, his next move — because he was an utter moron who always had the craziest but still true theories — was to look under the blanket that was covering him, and what came out of his mouth was the most mortifying sound he'd ever heard. "I'm naked!" he shrieked, causing that sneaky bastard to cringe and turn back to him. "Why the hell am I naked?!"

"Your clothes were dirty and beyond repair?"

"And you couldn't lend me some of your own clothes? And don't think I didn't notice that question mark at the end of your statement!" Stiles reveled in his sudden rage that was a lot more potent than any kind of zen humbug could ever be. Or he wanted to revel in his burning anger, but didn't get the chance, because suddenly Alec was towering over him, growling and all glowy-eyed. It was a frightening sight, not to mention the urge to bare his neck in submission was overwhelming for Stiles, more potent than his anger.

"I had to hold you and maintain full body contact to prevent my bite from not taking, of course you're fucking naked!" Alec snarled, and holy shit there were claws scraping under Stiles' chin! Which was nothing compared to the feeling of his Alpha being angry with him.

He lowered his gaze and slowly turned his head, baring his neck like his instincts told him to do. It seemed to please the older boy, because instead of ripping his head off, he leaned down and nipped at Stiles' throat, drawing a small whine from him. Stiles felt his blood hum in contentment at the contact and if his body reacted in a very different way too, well according to his notes it was also natural. Lycanthropes were sensual and very instinct driven creatures, so getting boners from being dominated was nothing to be ashamed of. Unfortunately, Stiles' mind had yet to get on with the program, and didn't care about ancient texts or supernatural lifestyles. His body was getting aroused by being licked and nuzzled by a very good looking and very naked guy who was technically a stranger no matter what this new, wilder part of him was saying; of course his brain was flipping out.

"Your innocence is so sweet," Alec purred, causing Stiles to shiver and clench his eyes shut, "and unblemished. You would make such a good mate, so eager and loyal and so very strong. I would never do anything to hurt you, sweetheart. Nothing, because you're mine now, my pard and pard is sacred."

"This is totally unfair," Stiles groaned, wanting nothing more than to tell Alec where to shove his delusions about Stiles being his mate, but his newly awakening kitten part was basically rolling onto his tiny spotted stomach and lifting his ass in the air in the universal 'take me now' sign. And it was ridiculous, utterly ridiculous and despicable and unacceptable, because sure, Stiles might have been a little bit closer to accepting his new furry status, but mentioning mates and other fishy business was a big no. So he gathered every inch of his freewill that belonged to his human self, and pulled away from his Alpha. "If you had turned me just so you can fuck me, I will gut you," he gritted out, inwardly cheering at the glare he managed to pin the older man with.

Alec had the gall to roll his eyes and grin at him mischievously, but he continued invading Stiles' personal space, and when he spoke, his tone was dead serious. "Biting someone for petty reasons like lust is punished by either forced bonding or exile from the clan, and I would never do something like that. No sane werepanther would."

"You're an asshole," Stiles muttered, still sulking, but he couldn't deny the relief he felt over not being humiliated and mauled just to become someone's fuck toy. "And I wasn't joking."

"Believe me, I know," came the solemn answer. "But we'll have time to talk everything over later, because this is not going away."

"My best friend is a werewolf, you think I don't know that?" Stiles scoffed, then something Alec had told him earlier struck him like lightening, and felt his heart speed up, sending his blood and senses into overdrive. "My dad is human! He's a human… no. I'm not killing my father. Or let you kill him! You hear me? You're not killing my father!" he snarled, the absolute need to protect his father battled with his waning control over himself as panic bubbled up in his throat. His breathing turned shallow and a niggling pain in his fingers caused him to clench and unclench them rhythmically, while his eyes widened and he looked up at his Alpha with terrified eyes. It didn't take a genius to realize what was happening, but Stiles didn't think he was ready to sprout claws and disturbing amount of facial hair. "Make it stop. Alec, make it stop!" he pleaded. "I can't lose control, I just can't. I won't turn into an overgrown cat or whatever our kind turns into!"

"Stiles, you'll be okay, sweetheart," Alec crooned, his fingers running through Stiles' buzzed hair soothingly. "You're safe, and I'll take care of you. Stop fighting your instincts and everything is going to be fine."

"That's not helping!" Stiles didn't recognize the inhuman growl that left his mouth.

His teeth ached with the need to bite into something, and to his horror his body was sprouting dark fur everywhere. Everywhere! Not growing gross sideburns and elongated hairy fingers, like Derek, Scott and the werepups did, but like real fur, and not even the calming presence of his Alpha could save him from freaking the hell out after that. The scream that exploded from him when his bones shattered and regrew themselves sounded more like the last yowl of a drowning cat than a real scream, however, by that time Stiles didn't give a shit about the noises that left him. He was in unbearable pain and something feral, wild and unstoppable was tearing its way through his conscious. He was freaked out of his mind, entirely ignoring the strange familiarity this new creature brought with it. Him. Definitely a him.

The pain lingered even after his whole world tilted and was dripped into gray paint, the echo of his breaking bones and collapsing muscles pounded behind his eyes. His chest was rumbling, newly sprouted claws shedding the soft bedding beneath him, but the expected blood lust never came. Stiles sniffed, whiskers twitching in time with his nose, as his distorted mind tried to process the new smells and sounds that amplified out of nowhere around him. In any other situation he would have found being an overeager fur ball hilarious. He tried to think of his panther as an independent entity, just like Scott described his wolf, but it didn't feel right. The cat purring and presenting to his Alpha despite the lingering pain and disorientation was him too, no matter how disconcerting that realization felt.

"See, it's not that bad," Alec said, his pheromones wafting off of his skin in waves, making Stiles' already dizzy head swoon with affection and need to please the Alpha in front of him. And to make sure the fingers carding through his fur never stopped. "And you're really pretty."

Stiles growled at being called pretty, butting his head against his Alpha's chest, earning a chuckle from Alec. He felt safe and cared for, the sense of not being alone filling the aching gap of loneliness he had tried to ignore for so long. The feeling was new, and nothing like the make-believe bond he thought he had with Derek while they had done their best to keep Scott alive and defeat Peter. That was nothing, just Stiles childish wish to be part of something great, only to be left behind, forgotten and rejected as always, when Derek got what he wanted and went on his ridiculous power trip.

The whine that left his mouth surprised Stiles, but the answering purr soothed him into lying back down on the comfy bed, his long tail curling around Alec's wrist, as if he was trying to keep him from leaving him. In turn Alec wound an arm around Stiles torso, pulling him closer to his warm body, protecting him from the outside world and himself, making him forget everything, even his fear of losing his father to the werepanther laws.

He had no idea how much time had passed before his body started tingling once again. Stiles' eyes snapped open and he looked up at his Alpha who had been petting him through his post-freak out nap, expecting him to pull away or say something, but Alec merely continued his ministrations. And turned up his Alpha mojo, because turning back into human form hurt much less than turning into animal form. It still left him panting and spread out on his back, but was far cry from the blazing hell of his first transformation.

"Somehow I feel like I should hate you so much right now," Stiles said after getting his breath under control, scowling when Alec flashed him a cheeky grin. "I'm going to hate you once I get away from your crazy mind control trick. And that's a promise!"

"I'm sure you are, sweetheart," Alec replied, his tone light and teasing, before turning to serious a moment later. "About your father."

"If you try anything—"

"Would you let me finish?" Alec cut in, glaring Stiles into submission. "It's going to take a bit maneuvering, and what you have to understand that what I'm about to say is absolutely against everything I was ever taught of, but I think this is the best way to minimize any possible damage." He paused to take a deep breath, as if it would help him through what he was about to say, not helping Stiles' nerves in the least. "Your father is the sheriff of Beacon Hills, a human authority figure which makes him kind of untouchable even if some morons like to forget the rules. Nevertheless, he is still human, so he shouldn't know about the supernatural… well according to our clan's laws, e cannot tell any human about us, unless we plan to bite them—"

"Absolutely not." Stiles spat vehemently, attempting to stare Alec down with as much ferocity as he could muster. "There is no chance in hell, you're giving the bite to my dad. He cannot know about us."

"Sweetheart, you're a newly turned panther, a little kitten that has no control over his instincts at all. Hell, even with my influence calming you down, your eyes are burning like embers. What do you think will happen when I'm not around to anchor you?" Alec retorted with a roll of his eyes, but his tone was solemn. "Your father is not a fool, and he will notice that something is wrong. It's the safest bet to tell him about everything."

"The existence of lycanthropes and the presence of an entire — no matter how ragged it is — pack of werewolves in Beacon Hills is not my secret to tell," Stiles said, giving a last chance of convincing Alec not to tell his father the truth. The mere thought of his father getting involved with all this furry mess sent cold shivers down Stiles' spine.

"Your other choices are me turning your father or killing him, consequences be damned," Alec offered with a ferocious grin that only widened at the horror that must have been written all over Stiles' face.

"You're not touching my dad in any way, got it?" he snarled, voice deep and caught on a growl that surprised him. "Alright, we're going to tell him, I want an oath that you will do everything in your power to protect him. I want you to swear on the life of whoever is dearest to you, and if you break your oath, I'm going to do my worst to destroy them."

"You seem to forget who is the Alpha of the two of us," Alec growled back, baring his teeth, but even though a very big part of Stiles wanted nothing more than to submit, his dad was his only family and nothing was more important than him. Not even his new pard and Alpha.

"This is not about dominance, and not even your magnificent Alpha mojo can deter me from this," Stiles retorted, feeling proud of himself for standing up to his Alpha even though it might get him killed. "I want your oath and nothing less."

They glared at each other from inches away, their noses almost touching before after seemingly endless minutes Alec finally huffed and nodded his head in agreement. "Fine," he grunted, eyes flashing green in annoyance. "You won this time, but don't think I won't get back at you for this. Insubordination is a poison only weak Alphas allow to seep into their pards, or packs for that matter."

"Dude, taking every chance to throw a jibe at Derek without him being present is just petty," Stiles snorted, rolling his eyes, but inside he was bubbling with almost nauseating mixture of relief and dread.

"Careful, sweetheart, or I take my word back." Alec smirked, twining his fingers with Stiles' own before quick as lightning nicked Stiles' palm with the claw of his free hand then repeated the motion on his own palm. Their blood soaked skin connected, the blood feeling sticky and kind of gross, because seriously, who made blood oaths these days? Stiles' attention was drawn away from their hands when Alec started speaking, "I, Alec Tristan O'Sullivan, eleventh Alpha of the O'Sullivan Clan vow on the life of my mother, Morrigan O'Sullivan, Mater and Head Alpha of the O'Sullivan Clan to do everything and beyond my powers to protect the father of my Omega, Stiles Stilinski."

If he wanted to be honest, Stiles had to admit he expected sparks or a rush of power to run through his body, but nothing happened. There was not even a little tinge, just the touch of skin clammy with drying blood. Alec's eyes were still green and Stiles guessed his own eyes were glowing with a different color too, but he was too overwhelmed to care. Until he remembered some of his Alpha's words, and his head that had tilted down in a show of respect and submission snapped up in shock.

"You said I'm an Omega," the knowledge hit him like a fucking truck leaving him dizzy. "How can I be a fucking Omega when I'm in your pard?!"

"Being Omega have a different meaning for us. Omegas are our best caregivers and protectors. They're nurturing the clan and balance the brashness of Alphas. They're the perfect mates, but usually disgustingly high-maintenance, though never ever mention I said that to my dad. He refuses to admit that it was my mom who courted him and not the other way around," Alec murmured, pulling Stiles closer to his chest by their clasped hands.

"I'm NOT giving you kittens or will were-marry you ever, just so you know," Stiles stated, the impact of his words lessened by the way he was sniffing and nuzzling Alec's neck. Damn his instincts and need to please his Alpha.

"Aren't you too young to think about marriage and kids?" Alec was laughing at him now, making Stiles want to bare his teeth, but he was too pliant with the knowledge of his father being safe or at least as safe as he could get in the supernatural world. "Now stop your teenage angst, and get out of bed, I need to take you home."

Alec patted his head one last time, then slid off of the bed again and went back to the closet. Stiles groaned and fell back on the bed plastering one of the stray pillows on his face. He was not looking forward to telling his dad everything about all the shit he had been hiding since Scott got turned. On the other hand, there was a tiny bit of happiness easing the knot of lies squeezing his lungs there too. There would be no more secrets and lies, and hopefully his dad would accept the news with relative ease. Yeah right, because that was likely to happen.

"No way," Stiles protested, stifling another groan, even as he got up, all sense of modestly lost.

His pervy Alpha had already had the chance to bask in the glory of Stiles majestic body, twice. There was no reason for hiding behind sheets like a shamed maiden on the morning after being deflowered by some drunken jerk at a party. Especially because Stiles was still the moderately proud owner of one shiny but slightly embarrassing virginity. Maybe he needed to focus on more pressing matters than the lack of people who wanted to have sex with him. Or even give a chance to dating. And wasn't it just his luck to be forced taking Adderal even after being turned into a supernatural creature?

He shook his head to clear away his pitiful thoughts, but the buzzing feeling in the back of his head refused to disappear, making him jittery and in serious need of his pills. He really wanted to get home and start researching werepanthers, because not knowing anything drove him crazy. He didn't have the patience to wait for Alec to start teaching him the ways of being super feline. He needed information, and he needed it immediately. Or he could hide from the world until his fur dried up and disappeared forever, forgetting about bitter werewolves and insane lizards and hunters who wanted blood more than the so called monsters. That was a tempting idea, but impossible, because Stiles was no quitter even when life was as far from perfect as it could get.

"Stiles?" the honest concern in Alec's voice was still unfamiliar from anyone besides his dad, yet his reaction was the same.

"I'm fine. I was just thinking," Stiles said, curling his twitching fingers into fists to hide his body's reaction to the last few hours of traumatic roller-coaster ride. "We have to get my car back. Even if we're giving dad The Talk, he would be pissed to see it not on the driveway."

"Let me guess, you want me to take you back to the woods." Alec didn't sound impressed at all. He had turned back to his closet — and when did he get dressed? — looking for something for Stiles to wear.

"It's a very good idea. I left my Jeep not far from the edge of the forest, nicely hidden so no one would find it."

"That's great. You only forget that, you're no longer human, and good chunk of that forest still belongs to Hale."

"He no longer lives in that house, so I don't see what your problem is," Stiles pressed, going as far as glaring at Alec who just had to be one of those bullheaded bastards all Alphas seemed to be, not listening to reason even if their lives were depending on it.

"Of course he would move out of those ruins when he has two newly turned pups who need as much protection from themselves as from hunters," Alec said, rolling his eyes as if it should have been obvious. "But having pups doesn't change the fact that the reserve is his territory and he probably patrols it every day."

"Well, he sure does a shitty job with his sweet puppies. Isaac is a vengeful brat who is on a warpath against everyone who overlooked him in the past while Erica has turned into a right bitch who thinks biker-slut is the new trend," Stiles answered, hiding his sneer at the thought of Derek's new Betas in the soft material of Alec's T-shirt.

Putting on his Alpha's clothes was comforting, and it calmed Stiles' buzzing nerves down. Except now his nose was constantly itching, as if he was about to sneeze, and it irritated the crap out of him, even though he knew it was because his new senses were slowly waking up, probably faster than they should be thanks to his accidental shift. Having a second entity — that in reality was the personification of his basic, animal instincts — in his head was a strange thing, especially when said entity was a lazy little prick that wanted to do nothing but lazying around in bed and basking in the heavenly smell of their caring and sweet Alpha. Unfortunately for the annoying furry little prick — yes, he was treating his other side as a different person despite being proven otherwise — Stiles didn't have the option to laze around, not when he had to figure out how to avoid being murdered by a most probably livid Alpha werewolf and had more secrets to keep from his already suspicious dad. Wasn't life just great?

"You never stop thinking, do you?" Alec asked, wrapping an arm around his waist, and the physical connection helped clearing his head.

"Annoying as fuck, but what can I do? Great minds come with great responsibility. Mine is to never cease working my overactive braincells," Stiles said, flashing a stilted grin at the older man.

"Panthers are not aggressive creatures," Alec said as they walked out of the apartment.

"Well, wolves are, and if Derek gets a whiff of my newfound love for yarn and catnip, he's not going to be happy," Stiles snipped, ignoring the tightening of his Alpha's hand on his hip.

"You don't have to resort to snarkiness and sarcasm every time you feel out of your element," Alec replied softly, stopping for a second to nuzzle Stiles's neck. "I'm not going anywhere and will be always there to protect you."

"Don't promise things you can't keep." Stiles refused to look at his Alpha; only he was allowed to throw himself a pity party.

"We'll see," was everything Alec said, steering him toward his car.

It was not hard to figure out where he was. Beacon Hills was one of those old boring towns that mostly had neatly built houses, which meant that the newer buildings like the couple of apartment complexes were on the edge of the town, not far from the southern end of the forest and a few abandoned factories that were waiting to be demolished and rebuilt as something useful. Like a mall if Lydia had her way. Of course a mall would mean more people, and more people always meant higher risk and danger when it came to shifters, but at the moment Stiles had to admit that Alec had chosen his home well. Which brought up the question, where the Alpha got the money to buy the apartment?

"Are you a drug dealer?" The question tumbled out of his mouth before he could have stopped it.

"Excuse me?" Alec's expression was bewildered, not a new thing when it came to associating with Stiles and his madness. "Why would I be a drug dealer?"

"Well, you have to admit, that lurking around schools and watching students is a bit suspicious. And you've got this cozy not so little place all to yourself…"

"You're totally crazy, you know that right?" Alec snorted, and if Stiles' hands weren't carefully hidden in the pockets of his borrowed sweatpants or he wasn't so afraid of the other's reaction, he would have punched Alec somewhere that would have hurt even for Alpha werepanthers. "I'm older than you with like a year and a half. Not to mention my mom would have my hide if she thought I was doing anything shady."

"Your mom?" Stiles frowned. He thought Alec had run away from his old pard, then the words of Alec's oath came back to him. "Oh, your mom, the most important person in your life."

"Yeah, the Head Alpha of the O'Sullivan Clan. She left to rejoin the clan in Portland after my graduation."

"So you're not some kind of renegade Alpha who had run away from the cruelty of his pard?" Stiles scowled at his Alpha's laughter. It was a valid question! Alec was alone, just starting his own pard, what the hell was Stiles supposed to think? "It's not funny! You have the perfect MO of a serial killer, I'm surprised no one had called my dad for seeing you lurking around."

"You're really adorable when you're pissed, you know that?" Alec asked, snickering.

"Fuck off!" Stiles snapped, really hating that he couldn't stay angry because of Alec's soothing presence next to him. "And stop manipulating my emotions!"

"And let you kill both of us? I don't think so."

"You think you're smart, don't you?"

"I know I'm smart!" The jerk had the gall to wink at him, causing Stiles to bare his teeth to hide the flood of blood that was filling his cheeks.

"Your fake flirting is not getting you any plus points."

"Stop being a child, it was hilarious and you know it. Renegade Alpha! Maybe I should start a self-help group or something. Lone wolves like Hale would sure benefit from it."

"Yeah, I'm laughing so hard, don't you see the tears leaking from my eyes?"

Alec, still chuckling, placed a calming hand on Stiles' bouncing left knee, seemingly not bothered by the withering glare Stiles shot him at all. Stiles was not amused, but he had to admit that not bursting with tension was nice. He had no idea how he was going to cope without his Alpha's presence, and the possibilities frightened him. Or would have if he hadn't been getting kind of high on Alpha pheromones or something.

"See, it's better," Alec murmured gently, squeezing Stiles' knee once before letting it go.

"How comes your mom is the Alpha? And how this whole clan thing works? Because I kinda get that a clan is something big, while a pard is a smaller group, but why would your clan let you wander around alone, recruiting new members to your elite group-thingy? It doesn't make sense." Stiles frowned, fighting off the drowsiness that took over his brain in heavy clouds. He wanted answers, and unlike a certain brooding wolf,_ his_ Alpha was all for sharing his knowledge.

"We're mostly a matriarchal society, sweetheart" Alec said. "Sure some of the newer clans are led by men, but it's still a rare occurrence and not widely accepted. Unlike sending your kids off to fend for themselves when they reach maturity. It's a test to see if they're able to conceal their true nature from humans without the help of their family." His shrug was aiming for nonchalance, but Stiles could see the tension clenching the muscles of his jaw. There was more to this being Alpha business than Alec was telling him, probably connected to the traditions and rules of the werepanther life. He didn't press the matter however, just hummed, and looked out of the window, lost in his thoughts.

Stiles was shaken out of his daze by a warm, comforting hand on the nape of his neck. Long fingers kneaded his muscles and Stiles could only sigh happily and lean into the touch. He felt calm and safe even as a strangely familiar yet threatening scent tickled his nose. He blinked a few times, nostrils flaring to catch more of that smell, but no matter how much he tried he couldn't place it in his head, besides instinctively picking up on the smell of charred wood, warm leather and cardamom in the heady mix.

"I was right," Alec noted with a frown, his hand tightening its hold around Stiles' neck for a second before pulling his fingers back and getting out of his car. "Hale was here, sniffing around your car."

"That explains why I can smell leather and cardamom." Stiles said, then at Alec's raised eyebrow he added, "I hope he didn't piss on my tires to mark his territory." A snort left his mouth, imagining Derek hunched in front of Stiles' jeep in his Beta form with one of his legs raised, his thick, red c— No. He was so not thinking of Derek's dick! He needed to think about something else, something that didn't make his fingers clench into tight fists in his pockets and made him blush like a thirteen-year-old who was taking a quick peek at naked women in his father's hidden magazines.

Alec's lips quirked up in fond amusement, wrapping his arm around Stiles' waist and pulling him closer. "You're impossible, sweetheart, you know that right?"

"Not interested in the fake flirting," Stiles replied, rolling his eyes at his grinning Alpha . Although he couldn't resist the urge to press his nose into Alec's neck and take a not so discrete sniff of his scent. "I won't shift if I get angry, right?" he asked, looking up to meet Alec's steady gaze.

"Don't change out of my clothes and you should be fine." Alec's certainty was reassuring, until he added, "But try to not lose your temper or get too excited in the next few hours. By the time your father gets home, I'll be there. And hopefully your friend doesn't decide to give you a surprise visit. But if that happens, you call me immediately." It was an order, and Stiles felt himself nod.

"Hopefully, there is not going to be anything exciting in the empty house that can trigger a shift," Stiles said, folding his arms in front of his chest. "I'll just ignore my hormones and cross my fingers that my dad won't come home to me chasing a ball of yarn around the living room."

"Stop with the melodrama and cat jokes, it's unbecoming. Go for a run after you eat something. Masturbate as much as you wish. Kill zombies on your computer, whatever you want as long as you burn off the extra energy your panther builds up." Stiles did _not_ blush to the roots of his hair at his Alpha's smirk when he said masturbate. It was perfectly normal to jerk off, every healthy man did it and it felt really good. And if Stiles was getting slightly more adventurous during his alone time, well it was nobody's business but his own. So Alec could smirk all he wanted, Stiles was not ashamed of taking care of his needs while he was looking for that special someone who would want to do it for him.

"And jerking off as much as I can without spraining something is supposed to help keeping me grounded?" He raised his eyebrow in disbelief. "Sure, my newfound furry side might be a little slut for your big bad Alpha powers, but you can't come with me to school and extra long alone times won't keep me from clawing Jackson's tongue out if he pisses me off, and believe me, he will. Hell he does that on a daily basis!" He snapped, and only noticed that his arms were flailing around wildly when they were engulfed in the vice-like shackles of his Alpha's fingers.

"Stop freaking out," Alec ordered, his eyes flashing for a second, demanding absolute and instant obedience from Stiles. "I'm not going to leave you to fend for yourself. You only need to hold on until tonight, then we'll work something out, okay? We're pard, sweetheart. Do you know what that means?"

"Should I base my guess on the example the lycanthropes I know had set?" Stiles retorted, gritting his teeth against the haze that was sneaking up on him again. However, a warning growl from Alec was enough to make him bare his neck, and apologize. "Sorry, that was uncalled for. You've been great and very supportive so far, and I'm grateful even though it irritates the hell out of me that I can't control my emotions around you. And yeah, you're kind of a stalker and had bitten me without my consent, but you're trying your best and it sure is a million times more effort than Derek had ever shown."

Alec grinned, his expression triumphant, causing Stiles to roll his eyes, again. Yeah, right, panthers and wolves didn't hate each other's guts. Just like Scott had enough willpower to stay away from Allison for more than five seconds. Stiles was going to die, it was official now. It was just a matter of time before he stumbled across either Derek or his rapidly expanding gang of rabid werepups, and then his life was over. Because apparently? Stiles' Alpha was a big fat liar, and werewolves and werepanthers were mortal enemies.

"If Derek eviscerates me the next time we meet, I'll come back to haunt your sorry ass." Stiles was trying for gruff and threatening, but if the spasming muscles in the corner of Alec's mouth were anything to go by, he failed spectacularly. Again. "Stop laughing at me!"

"You're too adorable for your own good," Alec cooed, reaching out to pinch Stiles cheeks only to have his hand slapped away.

"You're such an ass!"

"Aw, don't be mad. You'll be fine," Alec assured, but the strange sharp smell that hit Stiles' nose told another tale altogether. "Hale won't touch a hair on your head if he knows what's good for him. And he might be reckless and have no idea what he's doing, but even he won't go against an entire clan of werepanthers with three newly turned and untrained pups."

"I'll give you an A for effort, but I'm not reassured, at all," Stiles muttered, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "And I'm still not sure about this substitute control via clothes sharing…"

"I'll call you tonight and every day until I get back."

It shouldn't have surprised him that his Alpha had his number. The guy was an even bigger creep than Derek and seriously bordering on the Edward Cullen level, and that was just not cool. Stiles didn't care if half-witted preteen girls thought that being stalked by a hot guy was the ultimate declaration of love, he was really not cool with it. Even if said stalker was his Alpha and higher up on the proverbial totem pole than him.

"Okay, this is the point where I say, back the fuck down," he gritted out, mustering as much anger and frustration as he could standing next to his smirking and suspiciously calm Alpha. "I don't care if you and Derek have attended the same Stalker 101 class for born shapeshifters, stealing my phone to get my number so you can monitor my every move is just no. I'm not cool with that, and I want you to stop, okay?"

Alec huffed in frustration, as if he was an older brother getting tired of his little brother's stupidity. "For the last time, I have _not_ been stalking you. Yes, I admit I found you fascinating back when I was still in high school — and maybe a bit more when we were in elementary school —, and that curiosity is still there, but I'm not some crazy child molester or sexual predator who is after your sweet little virgin ass." His glare didn't faze Stiles in the least, even though it was acid green and full of menace. Of course it didn't. "I did not steal your phone, I just pulled it out of your ruined clothes — alongside with your keys and wallet — as you have obviously found them on my desk pocketed them before leaving. And I saved your fucking number after I was sure that you'll survive the bite, and I also programmed mine into your phone because you will need it. I know that you're a smart boy, Stiles, and you've been through this once with your friend. The next few days will be hard on you in spite of every precautionary steps we took to prevent you from shifting."

"Well, what did you expect?" Stiles retorted, spreading his arms in an aborted motion, before lowering them and counting to ten to collect his scattered thoughts. "We're running in circles here, and with each passing minute the chance of getting caught, either by Derek or some hunters, is getting higher, so let's not start it again. I need to get home and you need to get going. And I'm not saying that I forgive you or that I trust you — my purring side doesn't count —, but I guess I'm stuck with you and at least you don't have aversion to actual words."

"I'm not the bad guy here, and I wish you saw that." Alec's words were quiet and kind of sounded disappointed, causing Stiles stomp down on the very strong urge to butt his head against his Alpha's chin in consolation. Instead, he get into his jeep and turned on the ignition, ready to get home and do the only thing he was good at; research the fuck out of his new condition.

Alec didn't try stop him, he simply watched as Stiles put his jeep into reverse and backed out of the partially hidden clearing he had been parking. Still the guilt and the need to please his Alpha just wouldn't leave, not to mention the awful feeling of the stretching bond between them. It was natural, Stiles remembered almost every part of his werewolf research and he knew that — according to a suspiciously accurate website — the next 24 hours after the bite were the hardest on the newly turned wolves and apparently for panthers too. Which was the only reason he reached into the pocket of his borrowed sweats and pulled his phone out.

'_I will have questions when you get back and you're obliged to answer all of them after we survived The Talk.' _He typed quickly and hit send before he could have changed his mind. It wasn't exactly a declaration of forgiveness text, but if Alec had some functioning braincells he would work it out.

He was surprised to see his dad's car on the driveway when he got home, the sheriff sitting at the dining table in the kitchen with a plate of most definitely not turkey bacon and scrambled eggs in front of him. He was reading the paper and drinking coffee, the strong smells tickling Stiles' nose and making his stomach growl. His dad looked up from his reading and shot him a smile, despite the obvious stress that was clouding his features.

"Morning, son. Long night?" he asked, his tone light and void of suspicion.

"I thought you had a shift," Stiles said instead of answering the question. He walked over to the dishwasher and pulled out a clean plate for himself. He frowned a bit trying to figure out if he had mixed up his dad's schedule, but he was sure his dad had an early shift that week.

Something must have shown in his expression, because his dad raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you planning to have some girl over while I was not home?"his dad questioned, trying to sound amused, but his words mostly tasted resigned on Stiles' tongue.

"I actually invited an entire porn crew over for a steamy orgy," Stiles deadpanned, grinning when his dad snorted into his coffee. Except his satisfaction of getting one over his father was short-lived thanks to the guilt that was still gnawing merrily on his heart as he sat down next to his father. The lies he had been spinning like soft, enticing yarn was slowly trapping him in its unforgiving net, leaving space for nothing but more lies. Which might have been why he blurted out not a minute later, "I wasn't at Scott's yesterday."

His dad's expression was marred with a deep frown before it was gentled by the same bitter lines of resignation that tinted his amusement earlier. It was like a kick in the gut, and Stiles just couldn't bear it any longer. He didn't care that he was messing up their plans, maybe it was better that Alec wasn't here for the big revelation, even though Stiles had no idea what he would do if his father rejected him. He didn't think that his dad would hurt him, he had never raised his hand at Stiles ever, but the possibility of disappointing him and maybe even making him hate Stiles filled Stiles' stomach with sharp, cutting ice shards. Still he had to steel himself and be honest for the first time in months, because his father deserved that much.

"Dare I ask where you have been?"

"In the woods." The words rushed out of him and he gouged for some change in his dad's expression, but he just sat there stoically, his blue eyes guarded as if he was expecting Stiles to be still lying. It hurt, but Stiles guessed he deserved it for all the grief he had caused his dad. "I wanted to talk to Derek—"

"Derek Hale?"

"Yeah." He took a deep breath and decided it was easier if he did it quickly like ripping off a band-aid. "Dad, I… werewolves are a thing. And apparently kanimas and werepanthers too, and I'm one."

"What." It wasn't a question, and Stiles couldn't help but flinch at his tone.

"You remember those animal attacks a few months ago, and how you couldn't figure out how they happened, because the wounds didn't resemble to mountain lion attacks, right? Yeah, of course you remember," Stiles added with an almost hysterical chuckle. "And then Peter Hale disappeared and never turned up… and the only body you found was Kate Argent's who was behind the Hale house fire six years ago. Well the thing is, the Argents are werewolf hunters, and the Hales are… were werewolves. And Derek is still one and Peter was too, but the fire made him lose his mind and fuck dad, don't look at me like that, please!"

"How?" his dad bit out coldly. "Like I'm disgusted because my son thinks making other people's death into a twisted joke to save his own hide is acceptable?"

Stiles reared back at that, his chair slamming to the floor from the force of his movement, and stared utterly betrayed at his father. How could his dad think that? It was one thing to think he was lying and being disappointed in him for keeping secrets, but to assume he would use a tragedy like the Hales' to his own gain… Anger flooded him out of nowhere, and he didn't even notice the changes in him until he slammed his hands on the dining table and instead of his nails, his fingers were littered with sharp claws, digging into the wood of the table top.

"You think I'm heartless?" He asked, but his words were distorted because of the fangs cutting into his lips. "You think I would make a joke out of people's death when I had to watch as my mother slowly waste away on a hospital bed? What do you think I am? A fucking monster?!"

He didn't wait for an answer, he couldn't bear the look of horror on his dad's face any longer, he tore his claws out of the table and ran up the stairs, the door of his room slamming behind him with such force it was a miracle it stayed in its place. His bones were shifting under his skin, and Stiles couldn't do anything to stop the change. He fleetingly thought of reaching for his phone and calling Alec, but before he could do it, the change fully take him over and making calls was not an option any longer. He was one with his animal and he was in a rage. He was angry at his father for thinking so little of him, angry at Alec for turning him into this monster, angry at Derek for being an asshole and never being there when Stiles needed him, a little bit angry at Scott for constantly ditching him for Allison, however he was the angriest at himself for losing control and nearly hurting his dad. Except his anger was not rational and he could only vaguely sense the things around him through the haze of red that was clouding his mind.

At least the door was closed.

Stiles blinked his eyes open, grateful that he was still in his room, and he was alone. He stared at his ceiling, not ready to take inventory of the damage he caused, but after a quick sniff at least was sure no one got hurt, and his nose seemed to finally catch up with the changes in his species status. It even twitched with the mixed smell of dust and some old socks that really needed to be washed. Thoroughly. He was never going to use socks to clean himself up after jerking off ever again. The smell was so gross it made his stomach roll, but he would not vomit because of his own laundry and bad habits. He was a man, he was better than that, he was…

Hated by is father.

Stiles closed his eyes to stop the sudden urge to cry, the pain in his chest intensifying tenfold. Maybe he should just leave, and let his father move on with his life. He would probably be better off without Stiles making his life miserable, but Stiles couldn't make himself to do that. He might have screwed up royally and continuously in the last few months, but he did it with the best intentions and didn't give a shit what they said about good intentions. His dad didn't deserve to be thrown in the middle of the horror flick that was Stiles' life. He had enough problems keeping the town safe and Stiles and Scott and — if he wanted to be honest — Derek had the supernatural side covered. Well mostly. But what mattered was that he hadn't lied because he thought it was funny and enjoyed going against everything his dad said. He tried to protect his only family and he would do it again if he knew that his father was safe without knowing what was really happening around him.

Unfortunately that was not an option anymore. And because of that, he might have been very well disowned and lost the only remaining family he had. But if that was the case, he wanted to hear it from his father's mouth, and also give him a proper explanation. Maybe he really should have waited for Alec to come over and help him with all the talking. Which sounded ridiculous, because the only thing Stiles was good at was talking. Unless it was making serious confessions or showing real emotions through words. Apparently he sucked at that.

Stiles heaved a sigh, then collecting every ounce of his bravery, he slowly sat up and looked around his room. And promptly groaned at the wreck he had managed to make in the last three hours, if the clock on his nightstand was not lying about the time. Shit, his dad was probably out of his mind with either anger or worry or a not so fortunate mix of the two. Or worse he started drinking again, and it was not something Stiles wanted to go through again. He sniffed the air, doing his best to ignore the smell of his room, but it was hard to sniff out the smell of alcohol through closed doors. At least his ears helped a bit, telling him his dad was still home and in the living room, which meant Stiles had no other choice but to go down and face whatever his father had in store for him. After what happened that morning, he didn't expect anything good.

He stood up, popping his joints with a satisfied purr, only to realize he had no clothes on; his Alpha's pants and hoody lay in tatters by the doors. Stiles suppressed an exasperated groan at that, especially when he noticed his phone amongst the shreds. He needed to ring Alec and tell him he fucked up. Another conversation he wasn't looking forward to. But it could wait until after the talk with his father, after all his whole life depended on that conversation and his Alpha could wait another hour or two to hear the good news.

Stiles quickly pulled a fresh T-shirt and sweatpants out of his dresser, and put them on. He could do this, if nothing else, his dad would be still safe no matter how he chose, because even if he decided to give up on Stiles, Stiles would never give up on his dad. He swallowed the spiky ball of fear in his throat and opened the door. He could do this.

Stiles' dad was sitting on the couch when Stiles walked into the living room, his head held between his hands, but at least there was no bottle or glass in sight. He made a heartbreaking sight, sending another jolt of pain into Stiles' heart. His dad deserved a better son, one that wasn't laden with mental disorders and ran with mythical creatures. Still, Stiles didn't have it in him to be the better man and walk away. He needed his father and was not ready to give him up, not even if it meant that he would be in constant danger.

"I called Derek Hale," the Sheriff said quietly, but Stiles could hear him perfectly and those words almost gave him a heart attack, "and he confirmed the mad tale you told me."

"I'm sorry," Stiles replied, his voice hoarse and dejected. He couldn't find anything better to say, although sorry didn't even start to cover the shame, regret and pain he felt as he looked at the hunched shoulders of his father.

"No, Stiles," his father took a deep breath and finally looked up, "sorry won't be enough this time."

"Dad—" Stiles started to say, his fingers digging into his palms to keep him focused and prevent him from succumbing to the overwhelming sense of loss that was ripping his heart to shreds.

"I don't want to hear it. You've been lying to me for months and you risked your life who knows how many times, never stopping for a second to think about yourself and your safety." Something must have shown on his face, because his dad snorted, the sound painful but not malicious. "You are my son, Stiles, and despite your deceit and lies, I know you. I had to watch as you threw yourself into trouble's way just to save Scott's hide all the time, never caring about the consequences. This isn't different. Except it is, because this time the worst case scenario is not a bruised knee or aching stomachs, this time it's your very life on the line, and I won't stand for that."

"I—"

"I'm not done." His dad's expression was stern, but didn't reflect any hatred which calmed Stiles down a little. "From now on, you're not allowed to leave the house except for school or if I gave you permission. Your phone is going to be tracked, and don't even think about hijacking it, because I'll know. Also, I want to know everything, Stiles. Every little detail about what have you been up to in the last three months, I don't care how stupid or unimportant they seem to you. I won't stand for being kept in the dark and allowing you to endanger yourself, do you understand?"

"Y-yes," Stiles choked on his reply, hearing his father saying those words was too much. "I'm so sorry, dad. So incredibly sorry."

His vision blurred with tears even as he threw himself over his dad, burrowing his head into the nook between his neck and shoulder. His scent was familiar and smelled like home; gun oil, old papers and warmth. Sobs were wrecking his entire body before Stiles knew what was happening, washing away his fear and some of his anger too. It was obvious that he wasn't forgiven yet, but there was hope they could get there.

"Just like you should be," his dad said, stroking Stiles' back carefully. "You're not allowed to scare me like you did this morning ever again, got it? And I'm still mad at you and it will take a long time before I can trust you again, but I love you, and that is never going to change."

"I love you too, dad," Stiles murmured into the warm skin.

That earned him a half-amused chuckle and an affectionate hair ruffle, causing Stiles to lean into the warm, loving touch, basking in his dad's presence despite the shame that was still coursing through his veins. His dad was pard, not in the traditional sense of course, but he was the most important person in Stiles' life and nothing could change that, not even turning into an overgrown ball of purring fur. He had to bit back a contented purr as one of his dad's fingers brushed against the back of his ear, rubbing it accidentally just right. Then his dad did it again, and this time there was no suppressing it. The sensation turned Stiles into a purring puddle of goo to the point where even his tears were forgotten, and this time his dad really laughed, sounding amused and maybe a little happy.

"So a panther, huh?" Stiles nodded, too pliable to care about his dad making fun of him. "You sound more like an overgrown cat."

"You know how much I love milk," Stiles offered, grinning shyly and getting an eye roll in return. "And I'm stubborn and independent—"

"I wouldn't be so proud of those qualities when the only thing they gave you is trouble."

"You know that I'm not a quitter. And after Scott gotten bitten by Peter, I couldn't just abandon him."

"Of course you couldn't," the Sheriff snorted, causing Stiles to lower his head abashedly. "Now start talking, I want to hear your version of the whole story before Hale gets here. He sounded far from impressed over the phone."

"Oh my god." Mortification was not a strong enough word to describe Stiles' feelings about what he was hearing. Still, one sharp glare from his dad was enough to make him start talking, recalling the horrifying and twisted events of the last three months. This time he didn't leave out anything, no matter how bad or dangerous what he was saying sounded. The cat was out of the metaphorical bag, and he owed his father much more than an unedited version of what he had missed while he had been trying to solve those murders.

Obviously, the Sheriff was less than pleased about a supposedly catatonic Peter Hale turning out to be a raging monster of a werewolf whose only purpose in life was to seek revenge for his long lost family, neither did he like the fact that after murdering his own uncle, Derek started biting teenagers in order to create a new pack for himself. Yet Stiles just talked and talked, telling his father about trying to subdue Scott with handcuffs on one of his first full moons,and almost needing to cut Derek's arm off after he was shot by Kate and her magic bullet. It was painful, bringing up all those memories Stiles had tried to forget so desperately, but the strong thrum of his dad's heart under his ear was enough to calm his vibrating nerves down.

"Peter offered me the bite over Lydia's fallen body." It was the hardest thing to admit even though he had already done it to Alec once. Stiles didn't try to look up at his father's face, the accelerating speed of his heart was enough proof of his distress. "He grabbed my wrist and put his mouth above it, his elongating fangs nearly scraping the flesh, but for some reason he didn't bite down. And when I said I didn't want it, he let me go even as he threw my lie back in my face. But it wasn't really a lie, dad. I didn't want the bite from him, and not really in general either. I could never do that to you intentionally."

"Then how are you a panther now?" The resonating pang of doubt in his dad's voice cut deep, but it was understandable. Stiles wouldn't have believed himself either after having been lied to for so long.

"I was an idiot," he admitted before going on. He closed his eyes as he recalled how he had helped killing Peter and couldn't contain the distasteful sneer when he talked about Derek's power trip as a new Alpha, and his complete inability to control his new Betas. "I just couldn't take it anymore. He was acting like an ass, biting teenagers with horrible self-image problems left and right, and I decided it was me who needed to kick some sense into him. Only, when I reached his sorry excuse of a house, there was no one there." Stiles raised his head from his father's chest, but didn't look him in the eye. "I'm the only one to blame for what happened to me. I… Dad, I almost died yesterday." At his father's sharp intake of breath, he rushed to explain. "Derek's house was empty, but just as I was heading back to the jeep, the kanima appeared out of nowhere. The kanima is some kind of lizard monster, an abomination that's controlled by a master. It's a killing machine, and one was in the woods yesterday, probably waiting for Derek, but only finding me. There is a toxin in its tail and I got hit by it, it was ready to tear me to shreds when Alec saved me."

It wasn't technically a lie, but Stiles couldn't make himself tell what exactly happened in the woods. He couldn't share the terror and agony he felt, because it would break his father's heart, and made him worry even more. The kanima was going to be dealt with, and his father had to prepare to be able to protect himself, but it didn't mean he had to imagine Stiles' being mauled by a seven-foot-tall scaly beast.

"Alec? Who is Alec?" his father demanded.

"He is my Alpha, dad. Alec O'Sullivan, the panther who turned me to… save my life." That came out the wrong way, but there was no going back now. Stiles pursed his lips in anger at himself and his stupid blabbering mouth, chancing a quick peek at his dad, who was pinching the bridge of his nose as if he was trying to keep a headache at bay.

"Morrigan O'Sullivan's kid?" he asked in disbelief. "Why am I even surprised? Patricia used to be friends with your mother—"

"Who?" Stiles cut in, confused.

"Patricia Hale, Derek's mother. She and your mom used to be good friends."

"Oh." Stiles didn't know what to say.

"Yeah."

They never really talked about his mother; her death had been hard on both of them in different ways. Stiles' dad found his escape in the bottle, using alcohol to numb the emptiness left behind by her beloved wife. Stiles remembered those nights when he found his dad passed out on the couch, deathly pale and reeking of the sickly sweet smell of whatever he was drinking that night. He remembered the panic spasming through his body at the sight of his father unconscious and so haggard looking, his own screams filled with sheer terror from the chance that his father was gone too still rang in his ears even after all these years. Those were not the best times for either of them, but those times were over, buried under the more pressing problems of the present.

"So, O'Sullivan's son is your Alpha," Stiles' dad said, steering them back to their original topic. "Where is he then?"

"He's coming over for dinner," Stiles replied. "I wasn't supposed to tell you without him, but I needed to do it alone, because you deserved to hear it from me and not from a stranger."

"And what about Derek?"

"What about Derek?" Stiles frowned at the question. He didn't want to think of Derek and the shit that would go down next time they met. "He's a wolf, dad. He has his own pack to deal with…" _'And it's not like he gives a fuck about me anyway,' _he added silently, swallowing the bitter taste that clawed at his throat. "He's doing his best. I guess."

"Stiles, from what I gathered, a murderous lizard is out there controlled by someone, while the local Alpha werewolf is gallivanting around turning teenagers into his own kind. Excuse me for thinking that his best is worth pathetically little," his dad scoffed, wearing his unimpressed Sheriff expression that always cowed Stiles instantly when he was younger and tried to bullshit his way out of the messes he got into with Scott.

"Yeah, well, you're not alone there. Alec isn't all that happy with him either, but that might be the age old cat and dog feud talking," Stiles said lightly, and felt incredibly elated when his father's lips twitched at his jibe.

"Then as the first step in the right direction, you get the honorable task of playing the ambassador between the two parties," his dad stated, the force of a command lacing his words.

Dread settled in Stiles' stomach at the implication, and he opened and closed his mouth a few times, trying to find the correct thing to say that would save him from the impending apocalypse. There was nothing, it was blatantly obvious from the overly satisfied gleam of his father's eyes as the evil man watched him struggle. Stiles was as good as dead meat, and it was his own fault. Derek was going to eviscerate him and then Alec was going to tear Derek to shreds leaving behind two rabid pups who knew nothing about control. Oh and of course Stiles' father who was going to be heart broken and this time there would be no one to keep him from reaching for the bottle.

"Maybe we should talk this over once more before making a final decision?" Stiles asked with a hopeful expression plastered on his face. "Rushing into things has never worked out for me before, so maybe it's time we sat down and planned things out… extensively."

"No." And there went Stiles' last hope. He was officially dead. "You're calling Derek this very moment and inviting him for dinner."

"I don't think—"

"Do it." Blue eyes flashed at him, and Stiles had no choice but to reach for the offered cell phone and hit the call button, because his father was courteous enough to bring up Derek's number — and how he got it was kind of a mystery to Stiles, because he thought Derek's knowledge of the modern era ended at dictionaries —, and wait for him to pick up.

"What," came the gravelly answer from the other end of the line, the sound so much sharper than before.

Derek sounded aggravated and exhausted at the same time, something Stiles could never notice without seeing the werewolf face to face. "Greeting the Sheriff in a tone like that won't earn you any brownie points." The words just tumbled out of his mouth without his permission, causing Stiles to wince and send a quick apologetic glance to his father.

"Stiles…" Derek trailed off, his breath hitching a little before he managed to get a grip on himself. "I'm going to kill you."

"I doubt it."

"Rip your heart out—"

"If you don't want a juicy wolfsbane bullet in your furry ass, you will do no such thing," Stiles interrupted, having no idea where he found the courage to speak in such tone to the obviously enraged Alpha. "What you are going to do is dressing up and come over for a nice, delicious dinner and a friendly chat with my dad, the Sheriff, who is dying to learn more about your little werewolf regime."

"What…?"

"See you at seven." Stiles ended the call before Derek could say anything else, cursing his crazy, unfiltered mouth for everything, and it seemed like he wasn't the only one.

"I shouldn't have let you handle this," his dad said, rubbing a hand over his face before he stood up and left the room after carding his fingers through Stiles' hair one last time.

"I told you," Stiles muttered with a roll of his eyes.

They were far from fine, but they would get there.


End file.
